wash the echoes out
by Mia-Zeklos
Summary: "Well, this was— interesting. And a rather unusual sight, too. Even without taking the Jace he'd known before his death into account, the muddy memories he had of their almost-encounters in the recent past showed a much different picture – Jace, terrified and furious, trying to fight back against something that wasn't really there."


**Notes: Title taken from _Drumming Song_ by Florence and the Machine.**

 **Spoilers for 3x03 ahead.**

 **This was vaguely inspired by a prompt I got on tumblr and some of the recent revelations on the show; it's just an (awfully unlikely) take on how it could all go from here on.**

* * *

"How does this— work?" Jonathan nudged Jace's side with his boot. He didn't move. "Is he asleep, or—"

"You could say that he's in a state of stasis." The answer was distracted and if Jonathan had to guess, he'd say it was because Lilith was still caught up in the magic she'd needed to bring him back once and for all. He'd never seen her so exhausted before. "It's a simple memory block; when he's done for the night, I get someone to dispose of him as far away from here as possible. His mind fills in the gaps."

There was a hand on his shoulder, suddenly, and Jonathan fought himself not to flinch. Pain had always been a significant part of any touch for almost as far back as he could remember, and it was so _alien_ to not be forewarned about it now. Lilith's other children – the ones that had been born in Edom – had taught him how to recognise the warmth when someone was approaching and the complete lack of such skills in the body he'd woken up in unnerved him.

But she was his mother. She was no Valentine and she had done so much, had been so ecstatic to see him – it wouldn't do to push her away.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," she says, catching on on the anxiety-ridden silence, even if it's for the wrong reasons. "With time, you will be able to give him orders of your own if that's what you want."

"Yes." Not exactly _orders_ , perhaps, but— before his mother's ritual had finally pulled him away from the ether between the world of the living and the one of the dead, Jace had been the only one who had shown any signs of noticing his presence and he wanted to figure out _why_. Was it Lilith's doing again? She hadn't said anything on the matter just yet, but it would be very much like her to try and use him to destabilise Jace's mind even more and make him easier to handle. "How does he—"

"Here." Lilith made a quick gesture – one Jonathan was almost certain he wouldn't be able to repeat – and Jace stirred from where he was crumpled on the ground. She left them a moment later, seemingly uninterested in what would happen next, but Jonathan wouldn't let himself be fooled – she _was_ watching. The church of Talto – and the building she'd picked for it – didn't offer too much privacy despite the illusion of the way the space inside was divided.

It was just as well. Jonathan still felt somewhat out of sorts and he wasn't entirely sure what was expected of him now that he was here. Lilith didn't do anything without a purpose in mind and there was a reason why she'd shown him Jace in this state on his first night; perhaps if she was still around, she would grow impatient with him eventually and become a little more forward. It wouldn't be the first time.

But for now, Jonathan had a more pressing issue on his hands. Jace was finally waking up, blinking a few times to clear his vision, but didn't otherwise react to his predicament, eyes quickly finding their way to Jonathan.

Well, this was— interesting. And a rather unusual sight, too. Even without taking the Jace he'd known before his death into account, the muddy memories he had of their almost-encounters in the recent past showed a much different picture – Jace, terrified and furious, trying to fight back against something that wasn't really there – and it was strange to see him as unaffected as he looked just now.

"Hello." Jonathan lowered himself down to get to his eye level and put a finger under Jace's chin to make him look up. "Can you recognise me?"

No answer. Jonathan wasn't sure whether he'd been expecting one. With a sigh, he pulled him up to his feet and Jace followed without protest; almost a dead weight even though he seemed able to stand on his own. There was a block on his mind, he didn't doubt it for a second, but there was nothing _simple_ about it.

He led him down the corridor and left him near something that had once been a bathroom. It would be better to keep an eye on him at all times, but there were other things that he needed to catch up with and, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he forgot about anything else almost entirely.

It wasn't too far from the face he had picked for himself when he'd taken over Sebastian Verlac's life. The face – _his_ face – had a similar shape to it and he ran his finger over the slightly sharper chin, the hollow cheeks and the pronounced cheekbones above. His own touch felt foreign and he nearly got lost in the sensation before moving on to the other, glaringly obvious differences.

All the colours were slightly off – his skin was a touch paler than he'd expected it to be, but it was the yellowish hue to his short hair and the blue-green colour that he'd seen in the eyes of so many Fairchild family portraits that threw him off the most. People might be able to _tell_ , now, just from looking at him, who his parents were. It was a gift and a trap all at once.

So this was it. This was what he would have been like if his father had never sent him away. It was a body made for a kinder environment, if still the body of a warrior and it was so _easy_ to navigate it as he turned left and right to take a better look at himself under the dim light overhead; effortless, almost.

Did Lilith intend to keep him here forever, then? It was highly unlikely that she'd repaired his body only to send him back to the ceremonies she had performed on him when he'd first been delivered to her, but she hadn't specified what she wanted from him; had only talked about how happy she was to see him. That couldn't be it – it couldn't be the only reason for bringing him back, in any case – but he had all the time in the world to figure out what the rest of it was. For a start, he had Jace to deal with; he'd been part of the plan since the very beginning, as it appeared.

He was just as unresponsive as before when Jonathan tugged on his hand to get him to move. It seemed that his mother had bound him only to herself and had made him virtually worthless for anyone else who could try to inflict any power on him while his free will was temporarily taken away. If Jonathan wanted to change that, it would be _unwise_ to make an attempt without any safety measures at all – regardless of the circumstances, Jace had never failed to surprise him. There was no way of knowing how he'd react to this.

Finding enough makeshift supplies for what he needed didn't prove to be much of a challenge. The building had been abandoned for years and this wasn't the first time someone had used it for something unsavoury, Jonathan suspected; not by a long shot. He led Jace to the corner of the room and forced him to sit down before twisting his arms behind his back and over his head, looping the rope between his wrists the tiles they were pressed against. He pushed Jace's legs back towards his chest, just enough to be within reach of his face, and knelt on the ground in front of him.

"This is a blood spell, isn't it?" That was what the air around him suggested, at least. Jonathan fished around on the nearby table for anything that he could use and hissed when he got hold of one of the window shards there. "She must have given you her blood."

 _That_ captured Jace's attention and he looked up sharply, eyes fixed on Jonathan's hands and the blood beading up on his fingertips. "She did, didn't she?" It felt a little too easy, but then again, maybe that was the point: she wanted to test him, but not go too far with it just yet. "Here you go, then. You can trace the connection back to her." He pushed his fingers between Jace's parted lips until he latched onto them, driven by an instinct rooted in whatever ancient magic it was that had driven him to this point.

It was yet another thing that felt familiar and entirely new at the same time. His father had taken blood from him more times than he could count, but the pain had been different then, _expected_ , and something to be dreaded. This— this felt like forging a link that he couldn't really make sense of, put in place by the already unfathomable entities that had kept them both alive despite all odds.

It was over before long, with Jonathan withdrawing his hand when he felt Jace's body twitch as he struggled to take a breath.

"Enough, he muttered, eyeing Jace warily as he sagged against the ropes, suddenly much more aware of his surroundings. " _Now_ , can you recognise me?"

"Jonathan." It wasn't Jace, not quite, but he looked distinctly more useful now than he had just minutes prior. There was a clarity in the way he looked at him that hadn't been there before; something driven by _purpose_. "Jonathan Morgenstern."

"That's right." He reached for the knot that kept Jace's improvised restraints in place but did nothing to ease the strain. A Shadowhunter's first instinct should have been to fight back, but— _he'd do anything I ask him to_. In fact, he didn't seem inclined to do anything he _wasn't_ asked to – exactly as Lilith had described it when she'd first told him what she'd done. "Come here."

Jace strained up to be closer to him, as close as he could get, as if expecting to be told a secret. His mouth was stained red with Jonathan's blood and his eyes were still somewhat glassy, but _he knew who he was_ despite the unfamiliar surroundings and the spell he was under and the way Jonathan looked; he had seen through it all and for now, that was enough. It wouldn't be once he came to his senses, but by then, it wouldn't matter – neither of them would be around anymore.

Impulsively, before he could really think about it, Jonathan took Jace's hands in his own, barely suppressing a laugh at his startled expression. He reacted to his touch just like he did to his voice and it was _delightful_ ; more so than it had any right to be.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do with you if you can't answer my questions," he admitted, "not yet. But you're going to have to listen to me, is that understood?"

"Yes." It wasn't much, but it was _progress_ , with the awareness slowly coming back to his body. Jonathan could feel it thrumming through his veins, feeding life where there had been nothing but magic. _He_ had been the one to do it, all on his own, and Jonathan filed that information away for later use in case Lilith ever decided to question him. He had been the only one _able_ to.

"Any order given to you by anyone else in this place will have to pass through me before you take it into account." That would ensure what little loyalty he could get from him and no one – not even his mother – could deny him that right given the ritual that she had used to bring him back.

"I—" Jace frowned, the conflict clear in his eyes. Jonathan sighed. It was unfortunate that the commands that had been wired into him were so well protected, but it was nothing he couldn't get over. Spell or no spell, Jace was Jace – and he was rather easy to work with. Jonathan leant in even further until his vision got blurry with the proximity; until he could feel the frantic beat of Jace's heart under his fingertips.

"You trust me, don't you?"

The hand on his chest strayed up to Jace's cheek and Jonathan watched as a small smile snaked across his lips and he pressed into the touch almost imperceptibly.

" _Yes_."


End file.
